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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026333">Send Me Off to Sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoMansWindow2846/pseuds/NoMansWindow2846'>NoMansWindow2846</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Girl with the Silver Touch [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Vanya Hargreeves, Ben dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, OC-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Gets a Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, five travels in time per canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:55:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoMansWindow2846/pseuds/NoMansWindow2846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There were 43 miracle children born. Sir Reginald Hargreeves acquired 8. One miracle child was shunned, abandoned, and Number 8 was going to fix it one way or another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vanya Hargreeves &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Girl with the Silver Touch [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world simultaneously gave birth. Miracle births many claimed as none of these women were pregnant at the start of the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sir Reginald Hargreeves, an eccentric billionaire and adventurer, was determined to locate and adopt as many of these miracle children as he possibly could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got eight of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Around eight months, each of the children slowly began to show some form of extraordinary abilities. First to show real potential was Five, when he teleported out of Grace’s lap and into his crib. Nine months, two weeks, and five days after adopting the children, Sir Reginald Hargreeves started training the children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they were still babies, it was very difficult at first. Once they became roaming toddlers, Reginald forced the children to train. First their movements. A professional gymnast and teacher came every other day, showing the small children how to move with grace and purpose. After the children had mastered all basic movements, it was time to hone their abilities. All but one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seven was given medication at the age of two, designed by Reginald himself. He would not have Seven cry and break Grace again; it took 3 weeks before she functioned once more. Since she was reduced to a regular human, Seven was given the option of a violin, piano, or flute. She chose the violin and practiced it while her siblings trained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Six had the hardest time mastering his ability; it wasn’t his body, but another creature or creatures held deep within his own. It took years for Six to wrangle the beasts in his chest. At first, they attacked anything that came near their host. Six had stopped them with his own hands. After 8 months, Six could use words with his hands to prevent unwanted attacks. After 19 months, Six was able to use words to describe where the threats were. After 37 months, Six could point and the creatures would follow after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it was Three. She needed speech classes with her slight lisp. The lisp prevented her from fully utilizing her ability. Two joined her due to his stutter; although it could be argued that he didn’t need the speech classes as his ability focused on projectiles and water. Grace, their 'mother', insisted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Four, however, refused to master his ability. Reginald would not stand for it, locking Four in the family mausoleum. Ghosts would scream at him, begging the young child for help with whatever they wanted. Four feared the ghosts, feared Reginald when he would drag the small boy to the mausoleum. Only when Four could force the ghosts away would he be rewarded with fresh air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one with the easiest time was most likely One; he only required daily training. A rigorous work was planned for him at the age of four. Each year, the workout doubled. If he couldn’t handle it. It was lowered until Reginald thought it was sufficient enough to keep working his muscles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next easiest would be Five. He managed to master it while still under six years old, scaring and pranking his siblings. He figured out to control the distance he teleported. From that day on, he was obsessed with numbers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two had the third easiest time. Even as a young child, he learned he could throw objects with surprising accuracy. On their sixth birthday, Two threw a piece of his cake at Five, who dodged, but the cake slapped him on the side of the head. At first, Reginald was furious Two would start a food fight, but when it hit Five in the head, he was delighted and amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eight was in the middle. She could start the fires, but couldn’t put them out. Reginald had Seven hold a fire extinguisher on the off chance Eight exploded in a fireball. At the age of seven, she managed to put out her first fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reginald showed the world The Umbrella Academy when they were eight years, four months, one week and three days old. It was the only “holiday” they celebrated. Even the celebration was subpar, a dessert after dinner if everyone completed their training.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn loved sneaking away from training, claiming their power would hurt their siblings in the training room. Slinking off to the cellar, Marilyn learned the ins and outs of large expanse. Boxes piled everywhere of dried goods and old uniforms. Dodging around a stack, Marilyn noticed a slight breeze, blowing her finger flame to the left. They touched the smooth wall, bringing the flame against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another breeze nearly blew it out. Marilyn extinguished it, running their hands over the wall. Knowing something was behind the wall, Marilyn pushed with all their might. The wall creaked and revealed a hidden room. Marilyn edged in, cautious for any traps Dad put around his office. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With books piled high on an antique desk, Marilyn glanced back before moving to the stack. The books were all old with wear. Flipping through the first one, Marilyn determined it was about Mom’s design and functions. The next one was far more worn. Opening to the first page, Marilyn stared at the page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 1. Spaceboy. Super strength and endurance.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 2. The Kraken. Manipulation of projectiles and Ability to hold breath for an indefinite amount of time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 3. The Rumor. Manipulation of free will via rumors.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 4. The Séance. Contact and Communication with the descended.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 5. The Boy. Manipulation of space and possibly time via "jumps".</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 6. The Horror. Portal to another dimension in his chest cavity.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 7. No name given. Manipulation and Creation of sound waves. RESTRICTED.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Number 8. The Pyro. Manipulation and Creation of flames.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of them, written like some experiment. Marilyn couldn’t believe Dad thought of them as nothing more than weapons or experiments. They thought Dad had at least liked them a little bit as human beings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn paused and reread the page. Seven. Vanya. "Vanya has powers?" They whispered to themselves. "Vanya has powers! I gotta tell her now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," a stern voice behind them spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turned to see, "Father."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dad walked closer and snatched the book from their hands. "Vanya, she must never know. She will cause destruction."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn frowned. Vanya was the sweetest of their siblings. She was always selfless, helping anyone with anything, offering to help Grace with the chores, giving homework or training help at the drop of a hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dad continued, "You were not old enough to remember what happened when Number 7 first showed her abilities. She knocked out her nanny and broke all the windows in the house. She is too dangerous."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But Luther and Diego are perfectly fine to have roaming around? They're just as dangerous! I can literally spit out fire, but she's dangerous?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You, young lady." Marilyn flinched. Grace or Pogo never called them that anymore. "You do not understand what is and isn't dangerous. You are 13 years old."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shoving their father aside, Marilyn left the room and ran out of their special room, the cellar. "Fuck Dad," they muttered, rounding into the kitchen. "Vanya is so sweet."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vanya turned her head, hearing her name, "Mar? Is something wrong?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn stopped, turning to Vanya, who was washing dishes with Mom. “No, nothing is wrong. Dad is just an asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vanya and Mom both said in unison, “Language.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vayna stopped drying the dish in her hands. “Wait. More than usual?” Marilyn nodded. “Mar, talk to me. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking their head, Marilyn went to their room. They knew better than to stir up trouble with Dad watching their every move. Flopping onto their bed, they watched the flames dance across their fingertips. They needed the distraction from the Earth-shattering news they just found out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus knocked on the door, worried about their slightly younger sibling. Marilyn groaned, “Go away Van. I wanna be alone.” Klaus took that as an invitation and entered. Marilyn shot a small fireball at the intruder, who quickly dodged. “Klaus. I thought-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was Vanya. Yeah. Why my </span>
  <em>
    <span>jüngere Geschwister</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn teased another fireball at him. “I’m not that younger. 2 hours. And because I read one of Dad’s journals. It was about Vanya. Well, all of us. I can’t tell you here. Dad has ears in the wall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Usual spot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn smiled, “Yes please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if on cue, a voice rang through the halls, “Dinner in 5 minutes. Do not be late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus offered his hand, “Shall we?” Marilyn took it, fire dancing around their wrists. “Can we avoid fire?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not if I’m involved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus sighed, but didn’t comment anymore. Klaus sat next to Marilyn at the dinner table in the kitchen. Mom placed plates down in front of each child. “Oh, Mom, I’m a vegetarian for today. I might change it later,” Klaus said, shoving the ham to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I’ll make you a new plate, sweetie,” Mom replied with a smile, taking Klaus’ plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn frowned. “When did you decide this? You ate chicken at lunch?” Klaus just shrugged. “I’m sure Luther would have loved the extra protein.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s ham, Luther. Calm down,” Allison placed a comforting hand on his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn tuned everyone and everything out. They were planning on how to tell Klaus that their eldest sister was in fact special, just like they were. At first, Marilyn thought about easing Klaus into the idea, but scrapped it when they realized Klaus can be thicker than the literal ton of bricks Luther used as weights. Marilyn was going to be straight forward. Easy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five shouted, pulling Marilyn from their thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dad pounded his fist on the table, “You are not ready, Five. You need more time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I can!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn never stopped counting the days, putting up flyers when they had any free time, which was rare. Day 1021 broke Marilyn's heart more. They thought Ben was safe. They thought the guns had heated away from all the robbers. They thought wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Day 1022 was the day of the funeral. Luther had yelled at Vanya. Diego had clearly blamed himself. Allison had run after Luther to calm him down. Klaus had gone to the gazebo to smoke weed. Marilyn stayed still. It was their fault. Their job was to heat away all guns. They failed. Ben died.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn hid away from everyone. Coming out when everyone was gone or asleep, Marilyn sat and talked to Ben’s grave. They knew only Klaus would hear his answers if he was even there. Marilyn promised the eldest that they would never lose another sibling again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marilyn made a small fire pit, keeping a fire going for Ben and Five. It was their way of keeping hope that maybe Klaus could bring Ben back, even temporarily, as well leaving a marker for Five to find his way back. The day they turned 18, the fire went out for the last time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm aiming for a chapter a week with school involved and adulting and such. look for chapter 3 next week. the rest of the fic is planned, just have to write it.</p><p>and thank you for your patience on chapter 2</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marilyn tried to be the glue that held everyone together as they reached the end of their teen years. Diego left first, running to the police academy as soon as he turned 18. At first, no one noticed the empty room, empty chair. Then Allison left, scoring a small acting role in California. After her, Vanya went off to college, a liberal arts program focused on teaching music. Next was Klaus, leaving to join a random band as their drummer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Marilyn tried to stay, protect the city with their brother, but Reginald, no longer Dad, wanted none of it. He wanted Luther, and Luther alone, to help him with his research to the dark side of the moon. With Reginald shunning them, Marilyn left and got a job at a local coffee shop and grocery store, supporting themselves, rather than take Reginald’s handouts. It wasn’t easy, living paycheck to paycheck, but anything would be better than any sort of interaction from Reginald. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn enjoyed their quaint, but hectic life. Wake up at 4:30. Be at the shop by 5. Serve customers until noon. Go home. Change. Be at the grocery store by 2 and finish at 9. Same routine for months, years at this point. Not that Marilyn wanted a change, but some part of them wished for something else. It wasn’t crazy like suddenly getting a degree in something they had no passion for; they just wanted their family again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee shop was a hole in the wall place. Mismatched chairs were scattered across the cozy cafe. A small counter sectioned off the kitchen and was utilized as the register stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn sighed, wiping down a coffee pot and waiting for the door to chime again. The dream was a dream after all. As if on cue, the doorbell chimed and Marilyn lifted their head to greet the customer, a regular no doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya had barely stepped twice into the tiny cafe a student asked her to meet at when she noticed something odd about the barista staring her down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya walked to the counter, smiling. “Do you have chai tea? I can’t read the board well.” Marilyn blinked. It was definitely Vanya staring at them back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn broke into a grin, “Vanya. I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking, Vanya tried to place the bright green haired, tattooed barista. “Are you a former student?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diving over the counter, Marilyn laughed, “You don’t recognize your own sibling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the flesh, big sis,”  Marilyn smiled, holding their arms out. Vanya accepted the hug. “Where did you find me or here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya looked around and a short teen boy stood up. “A student told me about this place. Here he is now.” The boy walked over, holding a violin case, similar to the one strapped to Vanya’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn smiled at him before turning back to their sister, “We need to catch up. Like badly. Does anyone know you’re still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, hey, uh, let me give you my number and we can meet up on your days off or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn took the flyer from Vanya’s hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>World class violinist willing to teach you or your kids. Call 555-5555</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Smiling, they held up the flyer, “I’ll call tonight if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya mirrored it and nodded, “I’d like that.” The boy pestered Vanya about his lesson and Vanya waved goodbye before following the boy out of the cafe. Folding the flyer, Marilyn shoved it into their back pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn kept going about their day like they hadn’t met their sister they haven’t seen in about five years. On occasion, they would pat their back pocket, making sure the flyer was still in there. It always was and Marilyn was so excited to clock out and go home. Kicking their shoes off, they flopped down on the couch. The flyer was still there, bright clip art as the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn moved to the phone, ready to call. They hesitated. It was nearly 9:30. Surely a responsible World Class violinist would have an earlier bedtime. Swallowing their hesitations, Marilyn dialed the number. It rang once, twice, thr-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vanya?” Marilyn asked, nervous they had called the wrong number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking. Who i- Mar?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn smiled, leaning against the wall, “Yeah, sorry to call so late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya laughed on the other end. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re 23. It’s not that late.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true. World Class, huh? I feel like we all pretended like we didn’t grow up together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you mean?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Marilyn moved to press their forehead to the wall. “I mean, I haven’t seen or heard from anyone but Luther in the five years. I don’t know if Klaus is still in that band. They’re still touring in Canada, last I checked. Allison is a huge movie star now. Diego is a cop. Apparently, he likes our cafe for late nights, but I work afternoons at the grocery store on 5th Street. So yeah. And my sister is a World Class violinist. I feel like we’re all strangers at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. Life has been hectic-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When hasn’t it?” Marilyn snapped. The line went silent. “Shit. Sorry. I-I told Ben, promised him, no one would be lost or dead. I can’t do that if we aren’t in the same country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Have you reached out to any of them?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Vanya asked, waiting for their usual excuses they spilled as a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn waited for Vanya to admit she also had lost touched with their siblings. Maybe they assumed Marilyn was still at home with Mom and her home cooking. Maybe Luther hid any and all letters from Marilyn, keeping them in the dark about their family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mar?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I-I haven’t. I tried to keep us together damnit, but everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible. Diego left the day of our birthday. Don’t tell me he didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I still talk to him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn stood up straight. Did they hear Vanya right? “What? How? Do you talk to the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Only Diego. I don’t talk to Luther. Or Allison. Or Klaus.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why only Diego? Why not me or Luther? We’re just normal people like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Like me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Vanya sighed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Diego was the only one living a normal life until I ran into you today. Like you said, Allison is a movie star. I couldn’t contact her. I would be tackled before I could get close. Klaus is some druggie in a rock band and Luther is Luther.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me? I wasn’t smart or skilled. What could I do? Be a firefighter? That’s a normal job, Vanya! I’m normal too!” Marilyn took a breath. They were heating up and it wasn’t a pretty sight when they got agitated. “I just want to be normal Vanya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line was quiet, nothing discernible coming from the other end. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Come by my place tomorrow, any time. I think we need to talk about everything in person. Please?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn agreed and they both said their goodbye. Feeling guilt wash through them, Marilyn decided to go lay down, to try to forget the day and all the anger they threw at Vanya.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn called off at the grocery store, hoping to visit Vanya. After changing, they realized they didn’t have Vanya’s address. Swallowing the guilt forcing its way to the top, Marilyn rang their sister. Three rings later, Vanya answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Van? It’s Mar. First, I’m sorry for snapping yesterday. That wasn’t okay. I-I’ve been going to therapy to help, but I clearly still need it.” Marilyn laughed uneasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn heard feet shuffle before Vanya spoke, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you just justifying being rude to me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’ll apologize properly when I come over. I just need your address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Yeah. Okay. Do you remember the big orchestra hall? I live a block from there.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Vanya provided the full address to Marilyn. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I hope we can catch up without yelling. Diego loves to yell when he visits.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn laughed, “Sounds like Diego. I can be there in ten minutes if that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m free all day. No students, just practice.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two train rides and a few minutes of walking placed Marilyn at the entrance to a small apartment complex. The building was older but not in terrible shape, surprising Marilyn. Searching for the right bell to ring, Marilyn pushed number seven. “Fitting,” they murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya called through the small speaker, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who is it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Mar. I’m sorry I’m late.” The door clicked unlock and Marilyn pulls the door open. They slipped in, walking up the stairs. Rounding the banister, Marilyn stood in front of the door, seven. Number Seven was on the other side. No. Vanya was on the other side. Reginald had been an influence one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking the thoughts out, Marilyn knocked on the door and waited. Vanya opened it up, a smile spreading across her lips. She stepped aside. Marilyn entered the small and cozy apartment, not unlike their own. A music stand and violin case sat by the bay windows, giving plenty of light. A small brown couch faced away from the windows and to a small tv sat upon a short bookcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s cozy in here. You like it?” Marilyn asked, wandering to the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Vanya sat down. “It’s a bit expensive since it’s so close to a major landmark, but I like it. My next door neighbor, number six, is an older lady who reminds me of Mom. She made me this sweater actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you have someone to be a substitute Mom. I-I haven’t been home to see her in weeks, months at this point.” Marilyn joined their sister on the couch, sinking into it. “We should see her and Luther together. It’d be nice to have a small family reunion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that. Maybe we can have an early dinner and then you guys can come to my concert in a few weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn nods, “I’d love that. I haven’t heard you play in years. What… No, I need to apologize before we go further. I’m sorry I was an asshole. That was not cool on my part. I shouldn’t let my anger come out. You don’t have to accept it immediately, but I’d like to get to know you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to forgive,” Vanya said, hugging herself. “What you said, I can’t get it out of my head. Why do you want to be boring?” Marilyn blinked, unsure of how to answer. Vanya pressed forward, “So what have you been doing since I left home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn shook their head slightly, removing the thoughts. “I’ve been working like crazy. I want a dog, but it’s an extra 150 dollars a month and a non-refundable 300 dollar fee.” Marilyn looked at Vayna with a little hope in their eyes. “Would you ever get a pet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya thought for a moment, the air a comfortable silent. “I think I can have a cat here. I would get a cat for some comfort. Maybe name them after my favorite sibling, Klaus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn brought a hand to their chest, “Your favorite is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What about </span>
  <em>
    <span>moi</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Or Diego?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya laughed, “No, no. I’d name them after Mom, no matter what. Grace is a good name for a cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn nodded, “Maybe I’ll name my dog after Mom too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reginald is a horrible name and a horrible father figure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya frowned slightly, “He wasn’t that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was awful to all of us. Only Mom cared and she’s a robot!” Marilyn could feel their temperature rise slightly, the hair on the side of their head warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frown deepened on Vanya’s face. “Dad cared for me. He still does. He helped me get the first chair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You earned that on your own!” Marilyn insisted. “Dad did nothing for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad did plenty for me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn frowned. "Dad isn't that great, Vanya. He's a real huge asshole actually. Like bigger than the Moon asshole. Just because you became a teacher's pet doesn't mean the rest of us had it easy. Fuck.” Marilyn stood up, pacing the small living room. “Who knows what Dad is doing to Luther. Luther just says it's missions, but when did any of us do missions after 16? Rarely! Poor Luther is probably like a princess guarded by a dragon!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mar? Your hair?" Vanya pointed to the small fire on Marilyn’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck my hair. Fuck Dad! He lied to all of us time and time again! You most of all!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mar! Stop!" Marilyn froze. Vanya never, ever raised her voice at her siblings, especially not Marilyn. Vanya grabbed a rag, trying to put out Marilyn’s hair fire. Marilyn put it out themselves, preventing Vanya from hurting herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't… I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya sighed, "You didn't set off the smoke alarm, so I count that as good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn flopped on the floor, tired from getting heated about Reginald. “I’m sorry I got so upset. It’s just… Da- Reginald. He’s no longer Dad to me. He lied to us so much. Like everything I thought I knew got turned on its head when I left. Well, earlier. The-the day Five left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about that day?” Vanya prodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how I shouted about wanting to be normal? Turns out no one is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya blinked and sat in front of Marilyn. “What are you talking about? Are you saying that to feel better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s just… Dad lied when he said you aren’t special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya leaned closer to the slumped form of her sibling, “What are you talking about? Please be straight forward. I hated Dad’s riddles. I hate this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn cupped Vanya’s face. “We’re all special, Vanya. I promise you are.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>whoops, forgot to upload on saturday</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vanya stared at Marilyn. “Special? I-I-I’m not special. I don’t have powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do, Vanya. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya held in her laughs. It was impossible for her to have powers. She would have known by now. It was absurd to think she was anything more than ordinary, boring, plain. Well, maybe not plain. She was a world class violinist. But powers? Anything like that was for her siblings, not her. “You’re a bad liar. Worse than Klaus at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took one of Reginald’s books. It said you were restricted, that you can make sound waves. I swear it’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya shook her head. “No, I don’t have powers. I would know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn sat up straighter, “You do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vanya, you’re special!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya wrinkled her nose as if someone held rotting garbage under it. “If I am so special, Dad would have given me training like the rest of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn nodded. “He did. You still had stealth lessons, endurance lessons, all of the lessons that the rest of us had. He knew, one way or another that you would find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya said, “Or maybe he was waiting for my powers and they never came.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They did come. I-I don’t know how to convince you, but I’m telling you in one of his books, it listed us.” Marilyn spoke, their voice shaking ever so slightly. They needed Vanya to trust them. Just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stole from Dad?” Vanya looked horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put it back!” Marilyn shouted. They would never fully steal from Reginald. Taking a breath, Marilyn continued, “But in the book, it had all our numbers, our code names, and our powers. Reginald must have thought you were too powerful. He locked you away. He kept you away from us, from missions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad protected me from being injured by any of you.” Vanya crossed her arms. She knew Marilyn would argue against that, but it was somewhat true. Reginald kept her away from her siblings as much as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn frowned, “You think we would have hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hurt each other all the time! So yeah, I was glad to be normal and not in the infirmary every other day because of burns like Diego was for a month!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He deserved it. And Reginald reprimanded me a lot.” Marilyn tried to move closer to their sister, but Vanya moved away. “I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to fear me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fear you, but you’re talking nonsense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it was such nonsense, then why were you on medication since you were a kid? Isn’t that weird?” Marilyn pointed out. Vanya had to see reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad said it-it was for my mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It numbed you. I’ve never seen you truly happy in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been happy. Lots of times!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reginald restricted you in some way and I’m guessing it’s the medication,” Marilyn said. They were trying to keep calm, but it was if they were arguing with a brick wall or Luther. “If you don’t think you have anything wrong, then stop taking those meds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya wanted to scream, to push Marilyn away, to leave. She sat still instead. Was it the medication preventing her from feeling everything? No. The medication prevented her from horrible depressions, that’s what it did. Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn sighed, snapping Vanya out of her thoughts. “You can keep taking your meds. I’m sorry I came over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya grabbed their hand. “Stay. Please. I want to catch up. But no more talk about powers. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn nodded against their better judgement. “Can you make us some tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Diego is officially a police corporal, huh?” asked Marilyn. They were curled up on the couch with Vanya, both with a cup of tea. “He seems to be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Vanya nodded. “He’s already working up those ranks. He told me it’s higher than a police officer.” It was weird to think about Diego, the kid that always wanted to do things his way, following orders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn took a sip of tea. “It’s weird to see how close you two are. I- well, you know I haven’t had a lot of contact with our dear family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya patted their leg, hoping to be comforting. Growing up with limited interactions made Vanya worry about all interactions. “Well, I can give you Diego’s home and work number. And we can visit Mom and Luther.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t mention Reginald.” Marilyn pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to visit him?” Marilyn shook their head, a faint smile on their lips. “I thought so. I’m sure a quick visit won’t bother him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have to plan it, tell Luther so he’s not surprised his sister and sibling are visiting suddenly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya and Marilyn agreed to meet up in two weeks and plan their visit. Marilyn worked their long days, seeing Vanya nearly everyday at the cafe. It helped the days pass a little brighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya on the other hand decided to listen to Marilyn and eased off her medication. At first, nothing happened. Vanya felt the same as she always had. Then small things happened after a week. First a glass cracked as she practiced, causing her to pause at the sound. An odd occurrence, but one that couldn’t be chalked up to the construction being done on her block. Next happening was while she was at the orchestra hall; the stand she was using spun as if a force pushed it. Vanya stared at the stand, wondering what caused it to move so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poking the stand with the end of her bow, Vanya waited for it to spring to life. It remained stationary. With a sigh of relief, Vanya went back to her practice. Things seemed so odd now that she was weaned off her medication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third occurrence sent Vanya back to Marilyn’s cafe. Vanya had been practicing her solo when suddenly the room seemed to vibrate with the pulling of the strings. Stopping, she waited for the vibrations to come back, from the construction, obviously. Nothing. Plucking a string, the sound amplified and reverberated around her small apartment. She was doing it. Did she break the glass and move the stand?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed Marilyn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn was helping a customer decide on one of their specialty teas for working when Vanya ran into the cafe, a look of terror on her face. Waiting for the customer to finish, Vanya hopped from one foot to the other like a toddler about to pee. The customer took their change and tea, letting Vanya access her sibling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to help me. When do you get off?” Vanya whispered, afraid her voice would cause a sonic boom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get off at noon like always. I’ll call off so I can help you. What-what’s wrong?” Marilyn watched Vanya pull her coat tighter around her. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were so right. There is something wrong with me.” Vanya glanced around the cafe before leaning in. “It has something to do with sound. I-I need training and I cannot talk to Diego about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn blinked. Vanya seemed close with Diego. “Why not? He’s our brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t been able to talk to him since we talked,” Vanya continued to whisper. “I can talk to him when I have control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn nodded. “Stick around if you can. It’s almost 11. If not, come back at noon. I’ll walk you to my place and we can practice there if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya mirrors the motion. “Chai tea? Or green, if you don’t have that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Marilyn punched in a large Chai tea to keep track of the sales. “Family discount. I’ll bring it to you if you want to sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya stood to the side, waiting for her tea. Another employee passed a cup to Vanya and she takes the corner spot. Cowering in the chair, she tried to sip her tea. She stayed as silent as a church mouse. Watching Marilyn work helped calm her nerves, but Vanya was still hesitant to raise her voice louder than a stage whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn worked as fast as possible, serving and charging customers. They danced easily between the stations as it was demanded of them. Slowly the line dwindled to two customers. A clearly exhausted mother and her young child. The child begged and pleaded with his mom for a treat, but the mother said he could get a drink only. Marilyn only paid attention to half the conversation. Stepping up, the woman rattled off her order, and a milk for her son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya looked at the child, the way his fists were going up and down in the air, the way his mouth moved and the sound of his voice. The high pitched sound. The resonance it made on air. Vanya stared at the young boy, wondering if she had a tantrum like that in a store what havoc she would wreck. The boy noticed after a moment, snapping Vanya out of her trance. She checked the time, again. 11:57. So close. Marilyn was speaking. Vanya tried to listen in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please? She's my sister. She came to ask for my help." Marilyn gestured to Vanya. “It’s only three minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unless it's asking for a refill, wait until noon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn groaned. Looking back to Vanya, they mouthed, “Three minutes, Van. Then we can go back to my place.” Vanya nodded, a faint smile on her lips. Smiling back, Marilyn focused on cleaning the counter for the fifth time in a row. “So close,” they muttered under their breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing, Marilyn took a breath. Their boss may be a hard ass, but Vanya had listened. Turning to wipe down a coffee pot, Marilyn got lost in thought. Vanya listened and was aware that she was truly special. Okay. First. They should do something. Maybe seek out Reginald’s book again. Maybe he knew more than that first page. Only one way to-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mar. You can clock out now.” Their boss said, annoyance all over his face. Marilyn nodded, clocking out quickly and slipping out of their uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Vanya. We’re going on a field trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya stared up at their old home. It was unfamiliar at this point in her life, a distant memory. The old wrought iron gate stood guard, preventing any unwanted visitors. Passing it, Vanya followed after Marilyn, who was hopping over the barbed fence with ease. “I don’t know,” Vanya said, staring up at the fence. “I’m not… I haven’t kept up with my training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got this, V. Believe in yourself for once.” Marilyn waited on the other side, eyeing the door to the cellar rather than their sister. Reginald would be around soon enough. Or Luther. Or Pogo. Or Mom. They both had to hurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya took a shaky breath. It had been years since they climbed over something this hazardous. Five years, to be exact. College had softened her. Any combat skills had dulled. Vanya nearly fell off the fence after climbing past the barbed wire. Catching herself, she realized that maybe her skills hadn’t dulled that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn patted Vanya on the back, a smile on their face. “I knew it. Now, c’mon. We better hurry. Reginald has eyes everywhere.” Vanya nodded, staying a half-step behind her sibling. “I really hope he didn’t move it, the bastard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easing the cellar door open, Marilyn lit a small flame. Vanya huddled closer. “What’s down here anyway?” Vanya asked, eyeing the stacks and stacks of boxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully the answer to all our worries.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>chapters are gonna be every other week due to school. expect one sept. 19th.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marilyn carefully stepped down into the cellar, the old wooden stairs creaking with their weight. Their flame grew in size, the deeper they both entered the cellar. Marilyn navigated around the boxes with ease, their steps as a dance on the compact dirt floor. As it was 10 years ago, a breeze nearly blew out the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Marilyn extinguished the flame and pushed against the wall. The wall groaned with age before opening up to a small office. The same books sat on the same desk that Marilyn remembered. Taking the top book, Marilyn scanned through Mom’s designs. They couldn’t understand most of the math and physics behind it, but it was still neat to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing the next book, Marilyn recognized the cover. It was the right book. It had to be. Flipping it open, Marilyn sighed happily. The first page listed them once again. Marilyn paused. “Why didn’t Reginald take this?” Vanya shrugged in the minimal light. “He knew this was gonna happen. He had to know. He wouldn’t keep this book here.” Biting their lip, Marilyn debated on taking the book. It could easily be a trap set up by their father figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it,” Marilyn whispered, “We need this and Reginald can play his head games later.” Slapping the book close, they tucked it under their arm. “Let’s get out of here before Father Dearest learns about our presence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We only needed that book?” Vanya asked, eyeing the old binding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing. He probably has several books on all of us. Including you, V. You still have powers.” Marilyn pointed out as they climbed out of the cellar. Their eyes swept through the small courtyard. Luther was standing by the door, watching them exit the cellar. “Shit, Luther.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luther hulked his way over, his large form somehow larger the last time Marilyn saw him. “What are you doing here? You know Dad- Wait. Vanya? Why are you with Mar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn jumped in before Vanya could, “We were looking for an old book of hers. I knew the quickest way in, avoiding you and Reginald of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t avoid me. What’s in the book?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing that concerns you. It’s Vanya’s book. I’m just holding it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like Dad’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Reginald gave it to Vanya.” Marilyn held the book a bit behind them. Luther may have strength, but Marilyn was much faster. “Now, we’re gonna say hi to Mom and get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luther eyed them both for a moment. It was clear that Marilyn was hiding something, but Luther wouldn’t press; he’d end up with burns on his body. “Tell Mom I’ll see her at dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn nodded and headed into the house, Vanya still right behind. Mom was cleaning the living room by the front door. “Mom! Hey. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom straightened. Turning to Marilyn and Vanya, her face broke into a grin. “Marilyn, Vanya. My dears. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya hugged Mom. “I missed you, Mom. I’m good.” Mom hugged her back, squeezing tight. “How’s Dad and Luther treating you? Good, I hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are good to me. Did you see Luther?  He went to the back garden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn turned to the hall leading to said garden. “We saw him. He said he’ll see you at dinner. Uh, we have to go. We just wanted to say hi to you both.” Vanya glanced at Marilyn before looking back to Mom. She hugged her once again. Mom turned to Marilyn. “I’ll take a hug to go,” Marilyn smiled, hugging Mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom seemed rather happy, a large grin on her face, as Marilyn pulled away. “You two should visit more often. It’s nice to see my children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn’s heart broke a bit, hearing the sadness in their robotic mother’s voice. “Vanya has a concert soon. Maybe we can do dinner and then the concert.” Vanya tugged at Marilyn’s shirt like a scared child would to their mother. “Well, we’ll be back soon, I promise.” Mom appeared satisfied with that answer and went back to cleaning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya tugged Marilyn’s hand, forcing them out of their previous home. Marilyn watched Vanya start to weave through the busy crowds. Jumping as a way to start their run, Marilyn raced after Vanya. She wasn’t far ahead, so Marilyn caught up quickly, dodging around people like the boxes in the cellar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Marilyn called, catching Vanya’s arm. “Do you- where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, my place?” Vanya stared at the hand on her arm. Shaking it off, Vanya stepped to the side. Marilyn followed. After taking a breath, Vanya said, “Unless you want us to go to your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People don’t know where I live. It’s safer. Reginald is watching us, I know it. So follow me.” Marilyn stepped back into the crowd. It took Vanya a second to follow after in the crowd. Several minutes of walking and three train rides later, Marilyn was fumbling with their keys to open the door to their run-down apartment building. “Home sweet home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering, Vanya immediately heard loud barking from a first floor apartment. The next floor had a screaming match and a child crying in the hallway. Third floor reeked of death and cat urine. Top floor, Marilyn’s floor offered some peace. Until a man opened his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mar, got a light?” He said, leaning in his doorway. “And who is this cutie you brought with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, John,” Marilyn said, not looking up from their key ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be like that, honey. I know you got a lighter, you little firebug. I can smell the smoke coming from your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn snapped. Crossing the hall in three steps, Marilyn grabbed John by the collar. “For the last time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Johnny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if you ask me for a light or call me a firebug again, I will make your death look like an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John swallowed and nodded. “Sorry, Mar. Won’t ask again. But can I get that cutie’s number first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilyn dropped him to punch him in the stomach. “It’s Marilyn to you now. And that cutie is my sister.” John was hunched over, clutching his stomach, but managed to close his door. “I hate that asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Vanya asked as soon as they were in Marilyn’s apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He helped me move and suddenly he thinks I owe him big time.” Marilyn flopped down on the small sectional they bought a few months after moving in. “He’s always asking for a light or a blowjob. One day I’ll burn his dick off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll cut his dick off then.” Marilyn smiled, dropping the book onto the small coffee table. “Do you wanna read it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya picked it up, staring at the cover. “I think I will. I’m taking a vocal class, but I- I worry now. I break things when I make noise. I broke a glass, moved my music stand, and made my whole apartment vibrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you singing or something?” Marilyn asked as they sat up. They were intrigued, but they would make Vanya a lab rat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I… I was playing my violin.” Vanya realized. “My violin makes me use my powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so play your violin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Marilyn stood. “You need to hone your powers. You can’t just let them go all willy-nilly. Remember when you held the fire extinguisher for Reginald? I didn’t run from my powers. I had to hone them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya backed down. “I don’t know. Do you think the book will have anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya opened the book. Clearing her throat, Vanya started on the first page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 1. Spaceboy. Super strength and endurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 2. The Kraken. Manipulation of projectiles and Ability to hold breath for an indefinite amount of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 3. The Rumor. Manipulation of free will via rumors.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Number 4. The Séance. Contact and Communication with the descended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 5. The Boy. Manipulation of space and possibly time via "jumps".</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 6. The Horror. Portal to another dimension in his chest cavity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 7. No name given. Manipulation and Creation of sound waves. RESTRICTED.” Vanya paused. “Restricted. You… you were right, Mar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. I can make them?” Vanya held out her hand, focusing on making something with all her being. Nothing. “What? How do you make fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I focus on fire, the heat, the comfort, the destruction and boom, fire.” Marilyn said, moving out of Vanya’s range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to focus on music, the sound of it, but nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re just not strong enough. You were on suppressants for how long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“21 years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. Let’s keep going. Maybe the more we read, the more we’ll learn how to hone your abilities.” Marilyn smiled at Vanya, hopefully. They would help her no matter what. She just came back into their life. They weren’t giving up on her that easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya nodded, finishing the page, “Number 8. The Pyro. Manipulation and Creation of flames. That’s you. Dad wasn’t very good at picking names.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Marilyn began, “We chose our own names. Reginald just made sure they made sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flipping to the next page, Vanya stared at equations for Luther’s endurance based on his muscle mass. “I think I need tea first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll start a pot.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the next chapter should be out oct 5</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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